polymorphism

The TV drama series “The Courtyard of the Qiaos” tells the story of Qiao Zhiyong, the most powerful banker in the late Qing Dynasty. In one of his last days, when Qiao had become a slow and old man, he said to his wife, “I had a strange dream last night. I dreamed of this courtyard. There were a lot of strange people in the yard. They looked like us, but they were not us. They spoke Chinese but I could not understand them. They dressed differently and acted differently. I couldn’t recognize who they were.”

That is a well designed ending. The show doesn’t conclude with the end of this character’s life. It sets our eyes on the long history before and after him. The strange people Qiao dreamed about were us, people living today. Qiao knew the country was undergoing dramatic changes and the generations after him would be entirely different. His words raised an interesting question: What has changed since then and what has not?

I like reading classic Chinese poems and stories. I can connect with Chinese ancestry this way, although I am much different. Their time has long gone and can never be reached again. Even the rivers and mountains we live around and love today look different from the land they lived in and loved. I feel so connected, yet so disconnected to them.

Ancient Chinese were very proud of their civilization. They believed they had found the law and pattern of history, and they should follow the mandate of heaven. They believed they lived in the center of the world and wrongly called their neighboring countries “barbarians.” In Emperor Qian Long’s reply to British King George III, he wrote, “You, O King, live beyond the confines of many seas, nevertheless, impelled by your humble desire to partake of the benefits of our civilization, you have dispatched a mission respectfully bearing your memorial. … To show your devotion, you have also sent offerings of your country’s produce. I have read your memorial: the earnest terms in which it is cast reveal a respectful humility on your part, which is highly praiseworthy.”

Qian Long, arguably the second greatest emperor of Qing, might have valid reasons for his confidence and lofty tone. Obviously, he didn’t foresee the future of the island nation living “beyond the confines of many seas.” I don’t know if people are arrogant because they are ignorant, or they become ignorant for they are too arrogant to learn, then and now. I do know that this arrogance led to ultimate corruption and a century of disasters in China. The rest is history.

Today, the Forbidden City has become a public museum. People, like Qiao dreamed, dress differently and act differently. However, has everything really changed? I don’t think so.

Not everyone has read the Four Great Classics, but many know the stories of the four novels. Not many study the text of Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism, Mohism, and Legalism, but people are familiar with many of their principles and quotations. Their teachings formed the Chinese culture and became the Chinese  language. In particular, the past few years were marked by the rise of “guoxue” (studies of national classics). Indeed, seeking one’s spiritual root is a natural consequence when one is materially satisfied.

The most ideal personality in tradition is called “Junzi”, which can be roughly translated as “gentleman.” What is a Junzi? What is not a Junzi?

Junzi is never about mediocrity. The “Book of Changes” described Junzi’s attitude. The “Book of Changes” is an arcane ancient book; most of its contents can only be comprehended by fortunetellers. Studying the law of the eight basic elements of the world, the book sheds light on what a Junzi should do to follow the profound design of nature. It reads: “Heaven’s movement is ever vigorous, so must Junzi strive without rest. Earth is ever low and stable, so must Junzi bear, with great virtue.”

The philosophy is always about two seemingly opposite yet interrelated things, yin and yang. One must mediate between the two. That is the relationship between Heaven and Earth, and between vigorousness and stability. Junzi is also an “Inner Saint and Outer King,” a harmony between mind and appearance, a consistence of motivation and behavior, and a unity of objective and method.

Junzi never retreats from society. Junzi should bring his ideals to society. Mencius told us, “In obscurity, one should pursue a private moral life. In times of success, one should nurture the world Under Heaven.” Junzi has great ambitions. There is balance between mission and personal life, too. Not everyone has the capability and opportunity to realize his ideals, though everyone can at least live a moral life and stand on their principles.

Junzi is not simply about being nice and caring. In the Analects of Confucius, someone asked Confucius, “What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?” A common response to injury is often “an eye for an eye,” though should enlightened person treat viciousness with kindness? Confucius replied, “With what then will you recompense kindness?” Treating everyone equally with kindness is a common pitfall and logically a misconception. Doing that, one removes the line between right and wrong, and essentially loses moral standards. Confucius then pointed out the third choice. The Master said, “Recompense injury with justice, and recompense kindness with kindness.”

Reading the classics is a pleasure. Some universal questions, about life and death, about humanity and society, eternally puzzle every generation. I always feel puzzled. Our ancestry had their answers. These answers can be a guide to a peaceful and meaningful life in a very different world, too.